


Shelter

by itsparkerluck



Series: itsparkerluck’s irondad ficlets [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Cute Peter Parker, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forehead Kisses, Hair Brushing, Hurt/Comfort, Parent Tony Stark, Platonic Cuddling, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sleepy Peter Parker, Sort Of, Tony Stark Has A Heart, i love me some irondad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 20:16:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15736602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsparkerluck/pseuds/itsparkerluck
Summary: It often goes like this:Peter, tired and hurt, showing up in the dead of night, crawling into bed beside Tony. Tony lifting the covers to welcome the kid in. Little to no words are exchanged between them.Tonight, it goes like this, too.





	Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> because we all need some irondad cuddles in our life
> 
> 'n don't forget to go check out my marvel fanacc, @itsparkerluck on insta :))

 

 

 

 

 

Rain.

 

Tony looks up from the open book in his lap, to the sound of the pitter-pattering of droplets thumping against the curtain-veiled window.

 

He shifts beneath the bed sheets, leaning back into the pillows that prop him up against the headboard. The candles on the nightstand, the only source of light illuminating the bedroom, flicker at the faint disturbance.

 

He turns the page.

 

The quiet drizzle grows into a mute roar as the downpour thickens. Tony has the full capability to soundproof the room, but the white noise is strangely soothing, more so than silence. He looks up from the book once again. "Draw the curtains, FRIDAY."

 

The curtains part with a soft whirr.

 

He peers out the massive window. It's dark. The city lights are heavily distorted by the water running down the glass, blurring together into glowing yellow blobs. He can see faint movement through the rain, of people and cars below returning home for the night.

 

His mind flits to Peter. He wonders briefly if the kid's out of the rain. There's no controlling him when it comes to his patrolling; Tony should probably begin setting a curfew to ensure that Peter gets enough rest each night.

 

Speaking of the kid, Tony's pulled from his thoughts when he hears light footsteps round the corner just outside his room. His ears strain, listening to the footsteps as they grow nearer, then stop at his door. He doesn't have to be told who it is to know.

 

"It's Peter," FRIDAY informs him unnecessarily.

 

"I know. Let him in."

 

The door slides open to reveal Peter, peeking hesitantly from the doorway. Tony takes one look at his disheveled state, his obvious eye bags and mussed-up hair, and scoots over to make room for him, lifting the edge of the cover welcomingly.

 

Peter steps forward at the wordless invitation, shuffling over to crawl in beside him. The teenager melts into Tony's side, head falling tiredly onto his shoulder as he snuggles comfortably up to him. Tony slings an arm around Peter, pulling him close to share his body warmth.

 

He turns the page.

 

They read together, enveloped in silence, with only the heavy rain to interrupt it. At this point, he's barely registering the words printed on the page, unconsciously skimming each paragraph, only to have to go back and reread it immediately after. The rain, Peter's warmth distracts him from getting any further into the book. It occurs suddenly to Tony that with Peter's heightened senses, the pounding downpour could potentially be uncomfortable, or possibly even painful for his sensitive ears.

 

"Activate 'Beauty Sleep Protocol'," Tony instructs to the ceiling. On cue, the noise ceases as a white panel lowers from the window to cover it completely.

 

Peter breathes a sigh of relief in response, the tenseness leaving his shoulders. "Thanks."

 

"You can tell me if you need anything, you know," Tony admonishes, but there's no bite to it.

 

"I know," Peter says softly.

 

Peter most definitely does not. They'd have to work on that.

 

He goes quiet, and so does Tony. They both go back to reading, Tony rubbing the edge of the page with his thumb absentmindedly. Seconds pass, then minutes. He sneaks a glance at the teenager, noting quickly how he's chosen to wear an oversized sweater and loose sweatpants instead of opting for the usual t-shirt and boxers that often suffices as his pajamas.

 

Peter has the collar of the sweater cleverly pulled tight up to his chin, the hood bundled around his neck. But even with his efforts, Tony can see the remnants of a what was most likely a previously dark bruise peeking out from beneath the cotton on the back of his neck, already fading thanks to his enhanced healing.

 

He turns the page.

 

"You wanna talk about it?" Tony asks casually.

 

Peter lets out a quiet noise. "Not really."

 

Tony doesn't probe further.

 

The thing is, Tony already knows. He's already seen the news. He knows that a small bakery blew up. He knows that Spider-Man tried to save the people caught up in the explosion. He knows that people died. He knows that Peter's hurting in more ways than one, and that for now, all he can do is watch and wait until the kid snaps like they all have.

 

Jesus Christ. Tony would shoulder the burden himself if he could.

 

It'd just be nice if Peter was able to trust him enough to recall the events to Tony himself. They'd have to work on that.

 

With an almost inaudible exhale, Peter's head falls unexpectedly from the billionaire's shoulder. Tony lays back further so that the kid can comfortably rest his head against his chest.

 

From past experience, Tony knows that Peter finds comfort in listening to a heartbeat other than his own. He waits, watching him adjust until he finds the perfect position. Eventually, as they both settle, he can feel Peter's breathing begin to match up with his pulse—three heartbeats in, four beats out. Three in, four out. It goes on like this.

 

Tony tilts his head to catch a glimpse of the teenager's face. He's no longer reading along with, eyes closed and lips parted in a relaxed, serene expression. At first, he thinks that the kid's asleep.

 

But when Peter shifts slightly, Tony realizes that his chest is wet, and so are Peter's quivering eyelashes.

 

After a moment's worth of hesitation, Tony sets the book carefully down in his lap, still opened to the page he's on. With one arm wrapped around Peter's shoulders, he lifts the other with uncertainty, hovering above Peter's head.

 

It begins with a gentle brush of his fingers, pushing matted curls from the teenager's forehead. Peter stiffens and Tony stills, but relaxes into the touch almost immediately after.

 

Tony moves his hand back, carding his fingers through his hair. They're soft, he notes. Incredibly so.

 

Peter positively _melts._

 

As if the teenager hasn't even realized it himself, he's letting out soft noises, of content sighs and subdued hums as calloused fingers rake through his hair.

 

Tony wonders briefly if Peter's uncle had done the same for him years ago, once upon a time. Wonders if that's why the teenager seems quieter than he's ever been, more relaxed. He can't decide whether that's a bad or good thing. He settles for the latter.

 

Is this what it's like to be a parent? To have someone be so willing to lean on him like this, letting themselves fall apart in front of him so that he can pick them back up?

 

If that's so, he thinks he wouldn't mind it.

 

Tony does this for another ten minutes, gently caressing the brown locks, careful not to mess it up to much, careful not to tug too sharply when he encounters a stray knot, until he realizes that Peter hasn't made a single sound since ten minutes ago. His head is heavy above Tony's heart, legs curled up into a fetal position, completely lax in his embrace. His breathing has evened out, chest rising and falling steadily.

 

Peter's asleep.

 

Tony sighs. He smiles, the corners of his lips tugging upwards as he observes the sleeping boy.

 

He watches the teenager for a while, remaining completely unmoving as not to wake him up. Peter may have crawled in beside him many times before now, but he had never fallen asleep before. It's all uncharted territory.

 

Peter stirs, so Tony resumes the petting. The kid stills once again, so he continues.

 

Numbness has begun to take ahold of his legs and arm, but that's okay. His head falls back against the headboard with a quiet thud as he stares up at the ceiling, hand still moving in a slow, rhythmic pattern. He lifts it again, reaching down to sweep a few stray strands from Peter's face, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple.

 

"Goodnight," he whispers in the quietest of breaths. Peter exhales sleepily in response.

 

Tony reaches for the abandoned book with his free hand.

 

He turns the page.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for making it to the end!! pls comment your thoughts, each and every one always makes my day :')
> 
> again, go follow @itsparkerluck on insta, i'd appreciate it a lot uwu


End file.
